


Smoke and Mirrors

by ayumie



Series: The Grimm Road [4]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Communication Failure, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayumie/pseuds/ayumie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renard/Nick established relationship - a slightly different version of Renard being shot and Nick being de-Grimmed. Adalind being her very charming self, getting Nick's powers back won't be easy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, remember when I said Renard would do something soon enough to fuck up their relationship? Turns out, Nick isn't all that innocent. Could be read independently, but will probably make more sende, if you read the earlier parts of the series first. I had to play around with the timeline/spells a little bit, but I hope things make sense this way.

“Sean Renard?”

There wasn't any pain. Renard heard the shots, felt himself stagger. Then the world tilted and swallowed him whole. 

The pain came later, suddenly, fierce enough to make his body spasm. Renard howled as fire crawled through his veins, fingers digging into the mattress as his Zauberbiest rose. When it was over, a cool hand touched his forehead.

“Rest. You'll need your strength. Mother is here.”

 

The next time Renard drifted to the surface, he heard Nick's voice.

“Who are you?”

“Nick Burkhardt, I presume. You may take your hand off your gun, young man. From what I heard, you're not the type to kill a mother for rushing to her son's sickbed.”

His mother's cool, clipped voice. So he hadn't been hallucinating.

“How do I know you're really his mother?”

Good. Nick was getting more cautious. Renard felt his mother's power rise, familiar and terrifying. Her Woge seemed to fill the room.

“You are protective of Sean – as you should be. But don't you think that if I meant him harm, I could have killed him by now? Easily?”

Renard heard shuffling, knew what Nick's instinctive reaction to that display would be. He needed to wake up, do something – anything – but his body wouldn't obey him. Warm skin touched his hand. Nick's fingers.

“Do you know who did this?”

“No. I was told the shooter was killed at the scene. Perhaps he said something before he died? Mentioned who he was working for?”

“I don't – I wasn't there.”

“Curious, since the man was beheaded.”

“Not I. Unfortunately.”

“We'll have to find out then, won't we? Since Sean very nearly died?”

Amusement was distinct in his mother's voice. For all his growing power, Nick still wasn't very good at hiding his feelings. What his expression was revealing just now, Renard didn't like to imagine. His mother's heels clacked as she made her way past his bed.

“Well, since you're here, I might as well go to sleep. Guard my son well, Grimm.”

At least they weren't trying to kill each other. Renard struggled to stay, to at least keep listening, but the darkness was closing in again. 

 

Finally, finally, Renard was fully awake. He wasn't feeling half-bad, even managed to sit up on his own. Nick was still there.

“Sean! You're not supposed to be moving!” 

Nick steadied him, helped him lean against the pillows. Renard made a exasperated sound.

“I'm stronger than I look. My mother … did something.”

For a moment neither of them moved. Then Nick surged forward and, fingers brushing Renard's cheek, fused their lips together. The taste was intoxicating, sweet and silky as the slide of tongue against tongue. Even after the kiss had ended Nick stayed close, forehead against forehead, breaths mingling.

“They told me you were dying.”

Nick briefly squeezed his eyes shut.

“They told me you were dead!”

For once, Renard had an inkling of what he was supposed to be saying.

“Sh. It's all right. I'm all right. And we'll deal with this... situation. Together.”

Nick gave a shaky laugh and, after another quick kiss, pulled back.

“I should call the nurse, let her know you're awake. Don't worry, I'll wait right outside.”

Renard barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“You don't really have to guard me, you know?”

Nick looked steadily at him, eyes dark.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Renard soon learned that with his mother and Nick working together, he had very little say in the proceedings. By the time the doctors pronounced him healthy enough to be released from hospital, all his belongings had been packed and moved to a new house on the outskirts of Portland. When Renard pointed out that he'd have liked to at least see his future home before the deed was signed, his mother looked at him the way she used to when she had caught him playing with the ingredients of her spells as a small child.

“Don't be difficult, Sean. You'll like it here well enough. The house has more space – and far better security.”

At least, Renard told himself, he didn't have a doorman or any neighbors to speak of, which meant Nick would be able to spend far more time here without anyone the wiser. His mother smiled as though she could tell what he was thinking. Uncharacteristically, she reached out to him, smoothing the collar of his shirt. 

“You need to be more careful, Sean. I won't be able to save you this way again.”

Even as he nodded, Renard wondered whether this was goodbye. His mother's hand lingered on his shoulder.

“Show yourself to me, son.”

He wasn't stupid enough to disdain his Zauberbiest, the strength and resilience it gave him, but at the same time suppressing his Woge had become second nature to him. It felt good to let go, to feel his Zauberbiest rise, crawl through his veins and burst forth. His mother's smile was fierce.

“That's my boy.”

*

The following day, Nick showed up with pizza.

“May I come in? My boss is on sick leave, so I thought I'd get out of the office early today.”

“Your boss is very strict, then?”

“Oh, you don't know the half of it. All those late nights...”

Nick's voice had turned husky as he he looked Renard up and down. Since he hadn't been planning to leave the house that day, he was uncharacteristically clad in faded jeans and an old T-shirt, feet bare to soak up the warmth of the floor heating. By mutual agreement, they put the pizza aside and kissed. A low, urgent sound escaped Nick's throat and he rose to his tiptoes and pressed closer still. Renard could sympathize. It had been too long. A sharp sting of teeth, and the kiss ended.

“Upstairs?”

It wasn't really a question. They didn't touch again until they reached the bedroom, then Nick took charge. At another time it might have been a struggle to see who pushed who onto the bed – now Renard found himself flat on his back with Nick hovering above him.

“Now, I know that your doctors said you weren't to exert yourself. Think you can manage that, Sean? Let me take care of you?”

The tug of arousal was sharp, immediate. He gasped as Nick hitched up his T-shirt, nails raking over sensitive skin. Renard arched his back to help get the whole thing off. At the sight of his chest, Nick froze, then, gently, ran his fingertips over the fresh scars.

“I want to kill whoever did this.”

“He's dead already, you know that.”

“Not just the man who pulled the trigger. I want everybody who knew – I want Viktor.”

There was something dark in Nick's eyes, harsher than anger, more implacable. Renard shivered, thinking that this had been one of his own lessons – death was the only answer to an attack such as this. Anything less would be seen as weakness. Clearly, Nick had been paying attention.

“We could make arrangements, hire someone, perhaps.”

“No. I want to do it. Your mother said we could lure him here, offer something he wants.”

Briefly closing his eyes, Renard tried to think.

“Viktor won't believe that you're suddenly willing to give up your key – not over something as inconsequential as my life.”

“There's not just one key in the world, you know? Someone else might offer theirs. In exchange for safe conduct, perhaps.”

It was enough to override even the constant thrum of arousal. Another key? In Portland? What else had he missed? Nick chuckled as he leaned down, a decidedly smug smile playing over his lips.

“You're not the only one who can keep secrets, you know?”

That smiling mouth met flesh and Renard's reply turned into a groan. It took all of his self-control and several threats of Nick to stop and leave right away to keep him still – more or less anyway. In the end, Renard came hard, hands clawing at the sheets as he spilled his seed into that hungry mouth. It was all he could do roll onto his side as Nick crawled up his body, cradle him in his arms as he pressed close.

“Need you, Sean. Like this. Just like this...”

The feeling was mutual, but all the same Renard drew a line at eating cold pizza in bed. They sat at the kitchen counter instead, idly leafing through a travel brochure his mother had left behind. He had argued for plates and cutlery as well, but in the end Renard had to admit that lukewarm pepperoni pizza straight out of the box wasn't half-bad. Studying the various offers, he caught himself thinking that he'd like to grab Nick and get away from everything for a few days. No drama, no Wesen-weirdness, just normal, touristy activities and a chance to relax. Next to him, Nick was staring intently at the picture of a blond woman.

“I … I think I saw Adalind today. I was... No, must have been my imagination. Anyway, let's not talk shop tonight. Did Hank ever tell you about the girl he met on Hawai? The one he was trying to impress when he broke his leg?”

*

Renard's first days back at work passed in a whirlwind of delayed reports and piled up paperwork. In the evenings he was so exhausted, he barely managed to eat before collapsing into bed. As a result, Adalind's call caught him completely unprepared. After glancing up to ensure the door to his office was closed, he picked up his phone.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hang up on you.”

Adalind laughed, the high, tinkling sound she used to catch somebody's attention. Considering the nature of their relationship, her efforts were somewhat misplaced.

“One reason? Hm. Let me think – how about Nick Burkhardt?”

“If you have anything to say about Detective Burkhardt, I suggest you do so within the next five seconds.”

“Oh, don't 'Detective Burkhardt' me. We both know that's not what it's like. Besides, you know why I'm calling, Sean... or don't you?”

This time her laughter was real, delighted. Renard kept his mouth shut, usually the best course of action with Adalind. She liked to hear herself talk.

“Ask him, then. Ask your Grimm just what I can help you with. And then call me back.”

It was irritating. Now that Renard thought about it, it seemed as though Nick had been avoiding him. And yet, if something was seriously wrong, he would have been told, wouldn't he? Renard got up and made his out onto the floor.

“Detective Burkhardt. A minute, please.”

Something must have shown on his face, because Wu shot Nick a sympathetic glance, the kind that said 'oh, you're in trouble with the boss...' Once the door to his office was shut and the blinds drawn, Renard turned to Nick.

“I just got a call from Adalind. She implied that there is something you'd like to tell me. Is there?”

Nick paled visibly, then squared his shoulders. A second passed, then: “I'm not a Grimm any longer. She … did something to me. I don't know what.”

It felt a bit like getting shot all over again. When Renard's Zauberbiest stirred, he didn't stop it. The eyes that were looking at him were just eyes. He wanted to scream, to snarl his rage, but he didn't. Now was neither the time nor the place. Instead, he withdrew behind his desk, behind a thin veneer of professional concern.

“I suppose I don't have to tell you to be careful. Take Miss Rubel with you when you work on your cases.”

“Sean-”

“Your new address isn't widely known, but it still be might be a good idea to stay with friends for the time being.”

“Sean, please.”

“Please think about whether or not you want me to contact Adalind. Let me know your decision tomorrow.”

“I meant to tell you, Sean. I just wanted to wait until I knew what exactly we are dealing with. I didn't mean to-”

“That's enough, Burkhardt. This conversation is over.”

Nick's expression was as torn as Renard felt, but he took a step forward. He had always been brave.

“We need to talk about this. I'm staying at Monroe's place. Tonight after work?”

Silence stretched between them and, when Renard finally looked up, his office was empty. He quickly locked the door and leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut. How was it possible that half an hour ago everything had been all right? Or at least, as far as he had known. The rest of the workday somehow passed him by. He sailed through several meetings, said the right things at the right time, but his mind was elsewhere. Nick. His Grimm. His lover. Renard knew that he was supposed to be thinking about the future, about ramifications and changing plans, but somehow none of that seemed to matter. 

After a last less than pleasant appointment at the mayor's office, Renard decided not to return to the precinct. In an effort to clear his head he spent an hour at the bar of the Deluxe Hotel. He would talk to Nick, there was no way around it. He'd just have a drink first, try to think this through. What he needed was some sort of plan, a strategy to keep himself on track. Renard had always prided himself on being a pragmatic man, capable of focusing on the problem at hand rather than hurt feelings or personal vanities. He wasn't feeling particularly pragmatic, however, when he finally rang the bell of Monroe's house. Nick himself opened the door, visibly tense but otherwise composed. They sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table, glad to have something solid between them. Even after all this time violence was a possibility.

“Monroe is with Rosalee tonight. I … asked him to call before he comes home.”

“You told them. And Theresa Rubel, obviously.”

Nick nodded.

“Hank.”

It wasn't a question.

“Wu?”

“Yes.”

“That Eisbiber?”

“I- Trubel is staying with his family.”

For a moment, both men were silent. Then Nick's eyes widened, almost surprised.

“I … hurt you.”

As though that possibility had only just occurred to him. Renard shook his head, belatedly realizing that he really didn't want to be having this conversation.

“Have you thought about what you want to do?”

Nick was still watching him intently.

“So far we haven't come up with anything, so it's not like I have a lot of options. I … I even thought about simply staying like this.”

Which was what Renard had been trying very hard not to think about. Objectively speaking, becoming a Grimm probably hadn't done much for Nick's safety and happiness. Of course he'd want to go back to the kind of life he'd had before, cut himself lose from all the death and pain and madness. To Renard, it'd mean losing everything, though. It'd mean losing Nick, as simple as that.

All of a sudden, Nick cursed.

“This isn't why I asked you to come here. I wanted... We're better than this, aren't we? I didn't tell you, because I was scared, Sean. I was scared of how you'd react. I was scared that you wouldn't want me anymore.”

It was... all too much to take in. Renard's body moved on autopilot, surging forward across the table to claim Nick's mouth. Fingers tangling into short, dark hair, he licked past slightly stunned lips, trying to communicate the depth of his need. It wasn't easy to pull away. Drawing a deep breath, Renard said the first thing that came to his mind without giving himself a chance to reconsider.

“It'd be so much easier if you were just a Grimm to me. I like who we are when it's just the two of us – I like who I am. You make me think that life could be good.”

Nick looked shell-shocked, but slowly his eyes lit up and he gave a shaky laugh.

“Well, since you obviously make me act like a secretive, controlling jackass, I'd say we're even. I like who we are too. And I don't want to change any of it.”

After that, everything else came easily. They ate the vegetarian lasagna Monroe had carelessly left in the fridge and worked out a preliminary plan: Monroe and Rosalee would continue with their research, although their chances of success were slim to none. Renard would contact his mother and another Hexenbiest he knew in the area, see what they had to say. And they would call Adalind. In Renard's experience, one Hexenbiest trying to undo another's spell was a chancy undertaking at the best of times and with Nick he wasn't willing to take any risks. It turned out, he was right.  
The solution that finally presented itself was less than ideal. They had no choice but to give Adalind what she wanted in return for her help. The police investigation against her would be dropped, she'd receive her inheritance and be allowed to take up residence in Portland should she choose to do so. To make sure all parties were acting in good faith, Renard's friend Henrietta would bind them with a magic oath. While the need to negotiate with Adalind in itself was galling, the only way to re-Grimm Nick was … worse. 

They met in a suite of the Deluxe, the same one, Renard realized, Eric had rented a lifetime ago. He didn't know whether to laugh or bang his head against the wall. Henrietta had spread a blank piece of parchment on the table and gestured for all of them to place their hands on it. A brief sting of pain and when they pulled away, they left wet, red handprints behind. Henrietta smiled.

“That's that. I'll bury this and you ... do what you need to do. And if any of you are considering going back on your word – don't. The consequences would be less than pleasant.”

Then she was gone and they were alone. Adalind looked around, all wide-eyed and faux-bashful.

“So do you want me to take my clothes off?”

They really were going to do this. Renard didn't say anything. After all, this whole revolting affair wasn't about him. Visibly struggling to stay civil, Nick ground his teeth.

“In the bedroom. Could you give us a moment?”

Adalind giggled as she left, turning on her heel to make her skirt twirl. Nick cursed.

“I'm not sure I'll be able to go through with this – with her.”

Renard pulled Nick close, allowing them a moment of intimacy. He hated what was about to happen, couldn't see a way around it.

“You'll manage. Try to think of her as some pretty girl. It's just sex. It needn't mean anything.”

“You'd say that, wouldn't you?”

After a moment, he felt, more than heard Nick draw a deep breath. Renard waited, knowing better than to push.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out. Just … let's just get it over with.”

Adalind was naked when they entered the bedroom, still lovely, Renard noted, still alluring. She was smiling, hair spread around her head like a hallow. He watched Nick falter as he looked at her, quickly avert his eyes only to be drawn back to all that pale flesh. She was right to triumph, Renard grudgingly admitted to himself. They were dancing to her tune. As agreed beforehand, he moved to sit in one of the armchairs by the window, made himself relax. No need to advertise his feelings.

Nick did seem serious about getting it over with. Without preamble, he pulled his T-Shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes. Even more than a year after that first spell had been broken, Renard felt his breath catch at the sight of his lover's body. Broad shoulders, slim hips, those long legs... not for him, though, not just now.

Tension was almost thick enough to cut as Nick climbed into bed. When Adalind reached out for him, he caught her wrist, squeezed. Pain flashed across her face and, even without his Grimm-powers, Nick was turning into a dangerous man. With a start, Renard realized just how volatile the situation was. Somebody needed to break the tension, stop the slide towards violence. 

“Nick!”

Renard was gratified to hear that his voice sounded strong, confident. Both, Nick and Adalind were looking at him, almost as though they'd been expecting this. Very well. He tilted his head back, let a few seconds pass.

“Let go of her, Nick. Adalind, drop your arm. Don't move. Touch her, Nick. Just touch her hair, her collarbone, feel her skin.”

It was the softest of touches, a mere brush of fingers, but Adalind shivered. Renard didn't look away, made sure he met Nick's eyes whenever the latter glanced back at him. It seemed like this was his show to run, after all. 

“Look at her breasts, the way they rise as she breathes. Think they're as firm as they look?”

Adalind drew in a sharp breath as Nick cupped her breast, obviously enjoying herself, the power she had at this moment. Nick's thumb brushed her nipple and she lifted her hips, rubbing herself against the rough denim of his jeans. Hating himself, Renard pressed on.

“Adalind. Touch him.”

With a breathless little sound she reached out, up, exploring the lines of Nick's body. She was going to pay for this, Renard silently promised himself. He knew the nature of spells, knew that while they couldn't necessarily be broken, there were always ways to circumvent them, twist their intent until only the wording remained. Renard shifted in his seat, wondering whether it were his thoughts of revenge or the sight in front of him that were starting to affect him. Anyway, he had to keep Nick on track. His voice sounded rougher to his own ears, more urgent.

“Is she wet?”

Nick seemed to consider the question as he traced a line down Adalind's stomach. He was looking at Renard as his fingers burrowed between her legs.

“You fucked her, didn't you?”

Resisting the urge to clench his fists around the armrests, Renard smiled thinly.

“It didn't mean anything.”

That didn't seem to please Adalind half as well. She reared up, landing half on top of Nick, who had clearly underestimated her strength. It only took her seconds to undo his pants and pull them down his hips. Renard gritted his teeth at the sight of his lover's erection. It was almost done, he told himself at Adalind's appraising glance. She shifted a little, clearly intent on making sure he had a good view of the proceedings.

“My, my. Nick, you've been holding out on me. Who would have thought...?”

With a coy smile, she leaned down to brush her mouth over Nick's cock, licking her lips as she came back up.

“Well, since you are clearly ready- Oh and Nick, don't worry. I'm sure you'll do just fine.”

Adalind was the one to take the final step, throwing one leg over Nick's hips and shifting until she found the right position. Then she sank down.  
Was it done? Nick had his eyes closed, was probably trying to let instinct guide him as he started to move with Adalind. Renard leaned forward, willing himself to ignore the uncomfortable tightness of his pants. He couldn't spot any change, there was just the smell of sweat and sex and an increasingly urgent rhythm. It was easy to tell when Nick was about to come. Those blue eyes flew open, impossibly wide, darted through the room until they found their anchor. Renard mouthed Nick's name, hoped he'd hear somehow, understand. Still panting, Adalind remained crouched on top of Nick, eyes glittering with malice. 

“He didn't just fuck me, you know? He fucked my mother, too – and probably Henrietta in her time. It's what he does: He plays with your feelings as long as he finds you useful. Then he drops you. Just give it time.”

The look on Nick's face didn't bode well for anyone. With a sudden rush of dread, Renard wondered what else Adalind might throw at them. She had been with his brother for months – who knew what Eric might have revealed about his past? Who knew what her mother might have told her?

“Nick, I-”

“Shut up, Sean.”

Nick turned back to Adalind, anger written in every line of his body.

“Well, I don't see him dropping me. I lost my powers and here he is, supporting me. But then, fucking you didn't mean anything. You don't mean anything.”

With a screech, Adalind went into her full Woge. Nick was ready for her. He caught her blow before it could land, bent her arm back and forced her up, off of him. His eyes were Grimm-black, but any relief either of them might have felt was overshadowed by what they had had to do to get there.

“Was this supposed to impress me? I've seen better. Now get out of here.”

“I- What?”

“I said, get out of here. I just had to fuck you – nobody said anything about dinner and flowers. So if you value your skin, you are going to leave now and let me and Sean enjoy this very nice hotel room for the rest of the night.”

The look on Adalind's face was priceless. Without another word, she picked up her clothes and stormed out of the room. Renard couldn't resist a last barb.

“Don't worry. I'm sure you did just fine.”

Some time later, the suite's main door slammed shut. The tension didn't fade immediately, though. Renard was still trying to decide what to say, when, suddenly, Nick's shoulders slumped.

“I never thought I'd treat a woman like that – any woman.”

“I know you wouldn't, under any other circumstances. And you have to admit, the situation was quite unique.”

That got him a crooked smile. Nick was still very much naked, made no move to cover himself even though Renard's eyes kept straying. Finally he sighed.

“It's all right to come over here, Sean. I don't want to fight. In fact, I meant what I said just now. I want – I need to stop thinking about her, or I'll end up killing her, oath or no oath.”

Which would be very, very bad. A complicated mix of emotions was churning in Renard's stomach. He was aroused, had been for some time and all the anger, all the anxiety of the last weeks were only just starting to fade. On top of that, his instincts were screaming at him that no matter the details, Nick had been with someone else. He needed to touch, to take, to reclaim in any way possible. 

Renard moved deliberately slowly, taking one step, then another. Nick's pupils dilated as he brushed his fingers over his cheek, his lips, index finger briefly dipping into his open mouth. 

“I'm not sure how gentle this is going to be.”

With something between a laugh and a sob, Nick shook his head.

“Never mind gentle. Just get that bitch off my mind.”

That, he could do. Renard kissed Nick with barely restrained savagery, biting at his lip before licking into that eager mouth. This was what he needed, what they both needed, perhaps. Nick's hands were clenching into the lapels of his suit, simultaneously trying to pull him closer and get the offending fabric out of the way. It wasn't easy to wrestle out of his clothes without breaking contact, but somehow he managed with only a few buttons flying. Nick kept pulling him back for more kisses, urging him on.  
Adalind's smell was everywhere and, with a snarl, Renard pressed his mouth to Nick's neck, long, sucking kisses meant to leave marks.

“Mine.“

He mapped his lover's body with his hands and lips, briefly pausing to lick those dusky nipples. 

“Mine.”

A long sweep of tongue down the expanse of Nick's stomach, punctuated by a quick bite to his hipbone.

“Mine.”

Nick's strength was definitely back, because with one quick motion he twisted out of Renard's grasp and reached up between the pillows. He retrieved a box of Kleenex and lube.

“Yes. Yours. Now get on with it.”

In spite of Nick's impatient order, Renard took the time to put the wet wipes to use, erasing all traces of Adalind. He had to close his eyes as he slicked himself, aware that his control was dangerously close to shattering completely. His fingers found Nick's hole and pressed deep, testing rather than teasing. Renard's voice was hoarse, urgent.

“Now.”

They didn't waste any more time. Nick spread himself open, drew his hands over his head to brace himself against the headboard. The first thrust was jerky, uneven, but all the same enough to make both men gasp. Not giving either of them a chance to catch their breath, Renard kept moving, driving himself into Nick's body without bothering to check his strength. No other course of action seemed even remotely possible. Nick was panting, head thrown back, lips forming incoherent sounds as his hands clutched at the pillows. A minute shift made him cry out and arch his back, ass clenching sweetly around Renard's cock.

“Sean!”

It was enough to make Renard freeze and, for a breathless second, Nick's eyes shifted Grimm-black. They didn't last long after that. With a muffled growl, Renard buried himself to the hilt, his whole body shuddering as pleasure clawed at his spine. Nick came the moment he reached down to touch his cock, once more all but screaming his name.

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs and, for the long minutes it took for their heartbeat to calm, held each other close. When Nick looked up, the lines of his face seemed softer, less strained. He leaned in for a quick kiss, then drew back a little.

“Woge for me, Sean.”

Renard hoped Nick didn't notice his split-second of hesitation before he did as he had been asked. He stayed completely still, let the Grimm study him, slowly, minutely and when had Nick ever looked at his Zauberbiest like this? When had he ever wanted to? Callused fingers brushed the Wesen-side of his face and it was all Renard could do not to flinch. Nick grinned, a wry quirk of lips he had come to recognize as amusement tinged with affection.

“It's all right. It's you.”

Perhaps it was all right. After another moment, Renard shook off his Zauberbiest. They really needed to clean up. He called down to the reception for fresh sheets and sandwiches before ushering Nick into the bathroom. The shower stall was big enough for two, but the past hours had taken their toll and both men were too exhausted to take real advantage of it.

They did spend the whole night together at the hotel just as Nick had suggested to Adalind. It felt peaceful to sleep wrapped in each other's arms, safe in a way that had nothing to do with the very real dangers they still faced. 

A week later Viktor's body was found in an abandoned warehouse near the river. He had been beaten to death.

The End


End file.
